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hutchersonsgurl · 7 hours

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Begging For It *ੈ✩‧₊˚

This came to me suddenly, out of absolutely nowhere, so enjoy it.

Pairing: Clapton Davis x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: You get to peg Clapton Davis. That’s it. That’s the story.

Tags: GN!reader (use of ‘mommy’ is the only gendered term), Dom!reader, Sub!Clapton, pegging, strap-on penetration, anal, nipple clamps, vibrating cock ring, whiny Clapton (as usual), premature ejaculation (he’s touch starved and horny be nice to him), praise, degradation, overstimulation, thigh-highs, very brief choking, average early 2000s teenager room setup, don’t talk about the fact that Ayesha didn’t produce music in that timeframe…

The harsh moonlight from your open window shines along his skin, illuminating the thin sheen of sweat covering his toned body. You were balls deep in Clapton Davis, the schools resident jackass.

“f-fuuuuck—! don’t stop-!” Your room is entirely filled with his moans, even drowning out the sound of the Ayesha Erotica track that he had playing on your speaker. Clapton was never one to be quiet.. being in bed with him was no different.

You thrust slowly, holding his hips as he groans into the fuzzy pink pillow beneath him. He looked entirely fucked out, his hair messy and stuck to his forehead, his necklaces tangled and his shirt pulled up to expose his chest, not to mention the black thigh highs you convinced him to wear for you. You gently pull at his hair, forcing him to look back at you.

He’s already drooling, long eyelashes fluttering as he looks back at you with a dumb grin, the chain connecting the nipple clamps you had put on him earlier jingling each time you push into him.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, pretty boy?” You purr, his hole clenching around you as soon as he hears that nickname. He nods frantically, lips parted slightly as he lets out a sharp whimper.

You pick up the pace, causing him to loose balance as you slam into him. He’s panting, a total mess beneath you as you bring your hand to hold his head down against the bed, your other hand reaching down to pump his painfully hard cock.

He yelps, hips bucking into your fist as soon as you make contact with his length. His thighs tense, his muscles showing under those sheer black thigh highs.

“Ghh—! m-mommy—!” He sobs, babbling incoherently, completely dumbed down by your dick. He whines loudly, eyes rolling back as you slam into his prostate.

It only takes a few more thrusts against his sweet spot for him to moan, his dick twitching hard in your hand before immediately shooting a load out against his stomach, coating your zebra print sheets in the process. He was never one to last long, got himself too excited and worked up.

He cries out, panting hard as you continue to move, only slowing down enough for him to catch his breath. He’s insatiable.

“Already cumming so soon, baby?”

“M’sorry—“ He pants, still rocking his hips back against you. “Please- keep going— need it-“

You nod, slipping your cock out as you turn him onto his back. He looks.. embarrassed, completely flushed, but turned on.

“Good boy… think you can cum again for me? Make your mommy proud?”

He nods pathetically, his hips rolling against the air, desperate for contact again. You grin down at him, reaching down to grab the chain connecting his clamps, tugging at it, watching his expression contort in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Fucking whore. Of course you’d be more than happy to cum again.” You spit, snapping the elastic of his thigh highs against his skin. He lets out a choked sob, tears pricking in his eyes from the overstimulation. “Stay there.”

You briefly get up, rummaging around the bedside drawer before pulling out a bright pink ring. You hold it up, waving it teasingly infront of his face as you climb back ontop of him, kneeling between his thighs.

“You know what this is, don’t you, baby?” You hum, watching his pupils dilate.

“u-uhm… a cock ring..?” Clapton stammers, nervously biting his lip. His cock twitches from the thought of you using it on him alone.

“Mhm.. that’s right. This one vibrates, it’s gonna keep you nice and hard while I fuck you.” You murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his thigh, slowly slipping the cock ring onto his hardening dick. He whimpers, cock twitching at the sensation, a small bead of precum already forming at his slit.

“God, you’re such a slut…” You scoff, grabbing the bottle of lube that had been set aside on the end of the bed, pumping a generous amount on your hand before stroking yourself. Once you’re fully coated and lubed up, you guide his hips up and press back against his ass, feeling it immediately take you in.

He groans once you slide back in, knowing you hadn’t turned on the vibrating function to his cock ring just yet. His gaze meets yours, full of lust and a twinge of anticipation in those big puppy eyes.

“Mommy…?”

“F-fuck- what? you want that turned on already? are you that desperate to cum again?” You grunt, slowly pumping in and out of him, sweat already forming on your brow. He nods, looking a little embarrassed.

You sigh, a small smirk escaping your lips before you press the side button of the ring, feeling it vibrate to life. Clapton whines, hips bucking again as you hold his thighs, thrusting harder. He already looked close.

With how loud he is, you can barely register the music that’s still filling your bedroom, as if you could even think of anything aside from Clapton at this point. He looks so pretty… lips soft and puffy from earlier, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, a deep blush covering his freckled cheeks.

“Fuck me harder- p-please-! feels s’good—“

He’s begging again, how cute. You oblige, ramming deeper and deeper into his ass, the bright pink of the dildo connected to your strap-on sliding in and out of his pretty little hole, how he managed to take this much up the ass? No clue, but you weren’t one to judge.

After a few moments of listening to him babble incoherently, you turn up the vibrations on his cock ring, causing him to sob out in pleasure. His cock looked pathetic, all red and overstimulated, but still rock hard and leaking everywhere. As if he didn’t already leak all over this bed, you’ve got to wash those sheets later..

You reach down to grab his throat, applying just enough pressure to make him see stars as you fuck him, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. You feel his legs wrap around your torso, the sensation of his thigh highs rubbing against your sides as he pulls you in closer.

“Cmon, Clapton… cum for me, be a good boy and cum” You pant, leaning in to kiss him, darting your tongue out to wet his painfully chapped lips. He almost instantly complies, parting his lips so you could deepen the kiss, letting your tongues dance as you thrust harder and harder into him.

He whimpers and moans into your mouth, stifling himself as he wraps his arms around your shoulders. You hear his voice go up an octave, and his legs begin to tremble, his nails digging into your back as you feel a sudden sensation shoot up against your stomach.

You pull back, a string of saliva connecting your lips as you hear him panting heavily under you, his eyes shut a his mouth still slightly open.

“Good boy… Such a good boy..” You whisper, peppering soft kisses along his jaw, slowly moving down to his shoulders. You let the ring continue to vibrate, but pull yourself out slowly, eliciting a high pitched whine from the pretty boy underneath you.

“mmhh- fuck— t-thank you, mommy—“ He breathes out, slowly opening his eyes, a mess of sweat and tears covering his soft skin. You wipe his cheeks, smiling softly down at him.

“mm-hmm.. of course, baby, I love yo—“

Knock. Knock.

“Y/N?? Did Clapton come over? You know we don’t want your friends over this late at night!”

Suddenly, a knock on your bedroom door, accompanied by the voice of.. who you could only assume was your parents, of course it was your parents, you haven’t moved out yet. You stare down at Clapton, his eyes were wide, and frankly, so were yours. You can barely make out the words over the mix of music and the vibrating of Claptons cock ring..

“oh fuck-“

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hutchersonsgurl · 9 days

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Older; not Wiser (pt. 1)

Derek Danforth x fem reader

2.5k words

Tags: 18+, age gap, reader is 20, no use of y/n, smoking, shotgunning, brat tamer Derek, bratty reader, filthy shit, porn that's mostly plot, grinding, clit stimulation, Derek has dirty thoughts, (duh), idk just read it this is mostly buildup to smut

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Derek stumbles into his private study tired, high, and eager to take a break from the party raging in the rest of his mansion. He often retires to this room, as no one is allowed here but himself. Not even the maids.

So why is there a pretty young woman lounging in his recliner?

No, not lounging... you look far too tense for that. In fact, you don't even seem to notice his presence at all until he's towering over you.

"I believe this is my seat, sweetheart." He says, trying to keep his voice firm and suppress a smirk as he takes a hit of his blunt.

You scramble up from the chair immediately, squeaking out a quiet apology.

Ah, so you know who he is. AND you listen. That's good.

Derek chuckles to himself as he plops down in the plush lounge chair, a cloud of smoke escaping his lips.

You apparently don't know what to do yourself after the little evection, simply staring at your feet and tugging on the hem of your dangerously tiny dress.

Fuck, you look good.

"Oh, c'mon. Don't be like that. We can share." Derek pats the armrest of his chair, giving you what he hopes in an inviting smile.

After a few seconds of simply blinking at him in shock, you shyly make your way over and take a seat on the armrest. Your arm hooks around the top of the chair as you get comfortable, but you're careful not to touch him.

Derek can't help but smirk slightly at your timid nature. Is he really that scary? Whatever. He'll take it as a compliment.

"So, does she speak?" He asks after another slow hit of his joint. You look so pretty through the dim smoky haze.

"Not much." You admit, fixing your gaze on your lap in an attempt to avoid eye contact.

Derek looks at your lap too, but quickly has to turn his attention elsewhere. Fuck. That dress really is too short.

"Something tells me you're sober." He teases, waving his blunt in front of you.

That earns him a nod, so he pushes further.

"Want me to fix that, sweet girl? Looks like you need to relax a little."

You pause for a moment, then reach for his blunt. He pulls it away from you with a sharp tsk.

"Not like that. Open up for me, doll."

Your eyes widen with surprise as he brings a hand up to cup your face. He takes a long pull from his joint, enjoying the pretty little look you give him.

When he gently tugs at your bottom lip with his thumb, you obediently open your mouth, leaning down towards him.

His lips meet yours, and he exhales a lungful of hot smoke, depositing it directly into your own mouth. You eagerly take everything he gives you, melting into his touch. He can't help but want to give you more.

"Derek..." You whisper, eyes fluttering open as you stare down at him with a blissed-out look. Oh, that definitely relaxed you.

"Yes, doll?" He has to fight to suppress a smirk as he slowly tucks an arm around your lower back. In a failing attempt to be respectful, he lets his hand rest on your outer thigh, instead of shoving it right between your legs like he truly wants.

"Can you do that again?" You ask sweetly, leaning in a little closer now.

How could he ever say no to you?

"Only if you answer something for me, sweetheart." He practically purrs, gently caressing your cheek with the hand that's still holding the blunt. He's careful not to burn you, as the last thing he'd want to do is mark up that pretty face of yours.

Your neck, though...? No, he shouldn't go there. Not yet.

You hum a response, leaning into the touch and closing your eyes. One of your legs slips down from the armrest, falling on his lap instead.

Whether it's intentionally seductive or simply a sign you're growing more comfortable with him, Derek can't tell. He welcomes the touch either way, tugging you just a little closer with the arm he has around you.

"How'd a pretty girl like you end up all alone at a party, hm? Surely someone out there is missing you."

There. A not-so-subtle question. Is the little trespasser single? Not that it really matters. He'll have you either way.

"Oh, uh... I dunno... I was just feeling overwhelmed, and... well, I've been to parties before, just..."

After a minute of stumbling over your words, Derek waves a hand, cutting you off and putting you out of your misery.

"Just not a Danforth party?" He finishes for you, chuckling.

You flush a bit and nod, clearly embarrassed. Hm. You hadn't exactly answered his question, but, well... If you are in a relationship, it clearly isn't that serious. Not with how you're halfway to sitting on his lap.

"C'mere, sweetheart. You need to relax. It's overwhelming out there, huh?" He speaks softly, pulling you ever-so-slightly closer and giving your thigh a light pat.

Your arms slips around his shoulders in return, and he takes one final pull from his rapidly shrinking blunt in an attempt to hide his smugness. God, you're so damn eager. It's endearing.

After dropping the remnants of his joint in a nearby ashtray, he pulls you down to meet his lips again. You graciously accept his breath, and Derek swears he hears a moan spill from your pretty mouth.

"Feel better?" He asks, cradling your face in his hand.

You stare down at him with pure admiration, inching even closer as your eyes glaze over. The weed is clearly starting to take effect.

"What? You wanna take a seat, sweet girl?" Derek pats his lap, and apparently, that's all the invitation you need.

Before he knows it, you're situated sideways across his legs, with your arm still hooked around his neck.

He lets out a breathy laugh and tucks both his arms around you in return, one around your lower back and one just behind your knees.

Now that you're all up close and personal, he finally gets a good look at you. Fuck, you look young. His heart starts to race for a moment, irrationally fearing the worst. He knows there's a strict 18+ rule for all of his little parties, but still... couldn't hurt to check.

"Just how old are you, doll?"

"Twenty. Why?" You blink at him curiously, making yourself comfortable against his chest.

Shit. Okay. Twenty. That's not... too bad, right? His brow furrows, and he grips your thigh a little tighter as he pulls you close.

You must pick up on his hesitation, because you cup his cheek with your free hand and gently turn his head to look at you.

"Why? How old are you?"

"Take a guess, sweetheart."

Your faces scrunches adorably as you study him, and Derek has to hold in a laugh.

"Like... twenty-five?"

"Hm. You must be higher than I thought." He finally allows himself a small chuckle, taking your hand from his face and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it before lacing your fingers with his.

"That or you're just trying to flatter me."

You flush a bit at the kiss, but don't seem too phased otherwise, giggling softly and avoiding his gaze.

"How old are you, then?"

"I'm twenty-eight, sweetheart. You're practically a baby." Derek lets out an amused huff, squeezing your hand a little tighter as he slumps back in the recliner.

If you're surprised by that realization, you don't let it show. Instead, your free hand finds its way into his hair, lightly tugging at a handful of his curls.

"Yeah? And you practically have one foot in the grave, old man."

Derek should be mad at that. Both at the sudden intimate touch, and your disrespectful words. But looking into your eyes, seeing you smile at him like that? God, it just melts him.

Of course, he isn't quite ready to let you get away with that little quip either, so he gives your exposed thigh a playful smack.

"Play nice, little girl." He growls, returning your sass.

That just gets another giggle out of you. He marvels at how much you've changed from the shy girl he met just minutes ago. Hm. Must be the weed.

"You haven't smoked before, have you?" He muses, voicing his observation. He's sure of it. That light in your eyes. It has to be your first high.

"I mean... not really." You stare down at him with a smile, mindlessly twirling a lock of his hair around your finger.

Alright, that's enough. At this rate, you're gonna make him soft for you.

"Okay, sweetheart. I'm gonna call you a ride home." He huffs in amusement, shifting and reaching into his pocket for his phone.

"What? Why?" You frantically tense your grasp on his hair, giving him a look of genuine hurt.

Ow. Derek grunts, grabbing your hand and gently prying it from his curls.

"I'm not letting you go back out into that party like this, pretty girl. Look at you. Practically naked, and higher than a kite." He playfully tsks at you, running a hand over your exposed thighs for emphasis.

Fuck, you really are one wardrobe malfunction away from exposing yourself. Part of him is tempted to peel back the fabric of your tight little dress and try to catch a glimpse of your panties... if you're even wearing any. He wouldn't be surprised if you'd decided to forgo them.

"Who says I want to go back out into the party?" You start inching up his lap, getting dangerously close to his crotch.

He knows he should probably push you off, call you a ride, and send you home. Maybe give you his phone number, if he's feeling bold. But he doesn't want you to leave. Not when you're so damn fun.

"Woah, woah. Careful, little girl." He gently nudges you back down to his legs, desperately trying to keep you off his awakening dick. It stirs slightly in his pants from the movement, and he tries to discreetly adjust himself with a hand.

"I want to stay here with you." You whisper, giving him a pleading look as you reach to cup his cheek once more.

"No." He says firmly, though his cock is screaming at him to say yes.

"You're too far gone for this, sweetheart. I shouldn't have given you that second puff."

Derek reaches for his phone once more, determined to call you a ride and get you home safely.

Before he can even unlock the damn thing, you snatch it from him, dropping it onto the floor and out of reach. He tries to protest, but his angry growl quickly turns into a moan as you position yourself over his straining cock.

"I. Want. To. Stay."

Derek's nails dig into your thigh in retaliation, and he grits his teeth in a failing attempt to bite back a groan.

"You don't know what you're asking for." He growls, roughly grabbing your jaw and pulling you in closer.

"Then show me."

He does.

Derek kisses you with as much force as he can muster, biting your bottom lip and tugging it down to allow his tongue access to your mouth. He takes over the kiss, trying to swallow you whole.

After a few minutes of oral abuse, you pull away, dazed and panting.

"Too much for you, sweetheart?" He teases, unable to fight back a chuckle.

"No," you pant, "not nearly enough." With that, you reach a hand down and grope at his clothed cock, eyes trained on his own.

Fuck.

Your intentions are now explicitly clear, and Derek can feel his mind and body pulled in two different directions. Logically, he knows this is probably wrong. But his dick doesn't care about logic, and his brain is quick to agree.

He lets out a low growl as you start palming him through his clothes, and finally decides to do something about it. Two can play at that game.

"Oh, you're trouble. Aren't you, little girl?" One hand roughly squeezes your thigh, and the other slips between them, working his way up.

"Hm-hm." You just hum in agreement, melting against his chest and nosing into his hair.

"Yeah? This what you want?" He asks, finally reaching your panties. Fuck, even through the fabric, he can tell you're absolutely soaked.

His thumb traces circles around your clit through your underwear, and the needy little sounds you make only encourage him further.

Derek can't help but think this is a perfect way to spend the evening. He'll sit here and help your rub one out till you cum in those pretty panties, then hold you till you fall asleep on his lap. It'll be a damn good nap, too, considering he'd given you some of his own joint earlier. Good shit.

And then after, well, he'd either call you a cab or have someone fix up a room for you. He wasn't going to let anything happen to his new toy.

"Want more."

Derek is pulled out of his contemplation as you squeeze his cock again, more urgently this time. He hisses a response, trying to stay firm.

"You'll take what I offer, doll." He pulls his hand from between your legs, and lightly smacks your thigh as a warning.

This doesn't seem to go over well with you, as you begin to pout and backtalk him.

"What, scared? Does this old thing even work anymore?" You taunt him with another tantalizing grind of your palm against his dick.

Okay, that's enough of that.

"You wanna test it out, sweetheart?" He growls, harshly grabbing your wrist to put a stop to your little tease game.

"Maybe I do." You giggle, blinking down at him with an false innocence that he might have fell for, had he not just felt how soaked your pussy is.

Christ. You really are trouble. Derek soon finds his hands on your hips, guiding you to straddle his lap. Maybe he could let you ride one out on his thigh. That wouldn't be so bad, right?

Or maybe he'd have to make yet another change to his plans. You start to slide up his lap, and in the blink of an eye, you're pressed right up against his straining cock.

"Look, little girl." He growls at you through gritted teeth, tightening his grip on your hips in an attempt to ground himself.

"I'm not gonna go easy on you."

"Good. I'm not scared."

Derek can feel every gentlemanly urge leaving his body at your words. Well, he had tried the respectful route. His resolve in the face of your teasing should be applauded, truly.

You start to desperately grind against him, and finally, he snaps. You've made it clear what you want from him, and he can't hold back from giving it to you any longer.

He's going to to fuck you absolutely dumb.

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Author's note: I'M SORRY TO LEAVE THIS OFF ON A CLIFFHANGER but I am currently too sleepy to write!! But I want y'all to have SOMETHING, so here's a little treat!!

Part two will 100% be out tomorrow, and it will (probably) be the only additional chapter. This was just supposed to be some quick smut, not a whole series.

(It'll also be from the reader's perspective, this whole scene just felt right in Derek's.)

LOVE YOU GUYS!! HOPE I DIDNT MISS ANYTHING TOO GLARINGLY BAD BECAUSE THIS IS BARELY EDITIED AND IM SLEEP DEPRIVED !!!

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hutchersonsgurl · 9 days

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Send You My Love (On A Wire)

My Masterlist

This one doesn't even really have a plot, it's kind of just me yapping 😭 but it's fun and I think I wrote some fun dialogue so. There's that!

Also this is my twentieth fic! Happy twenty!

Pairing: Clapton Davis x gn!Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: Inspired by this post by user @bussyholeicedlikeadonut. Basically Clapton gets in a fight and you clean up the aftermath. Hilarity ensues.

Tags: bloody nose, the U.S. Constitution, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010)

You already know it's Clapton at the door before you even touch the doorknob. Nobody else but him would show up to your house at 2 am, especially since your parents are on a cruise and they're typically the source of most of the random visitors to your house.

You're a little pissed because he woke you up for the millionth time this week—you still have no idea why he insists on coming by at the most ungodly hours of the night—but your annoyance immediately dissipates when you see him and his bloody nose and bruised face.

"Missed you, babe," he says, grinning ear to ear at the sight of you. He hugs you, hands gripping your back. "Even though it's been, like, a day since I last saw you."

"Another fight?" You murmur, exasperated.

"Yep. And you wanna guess who won?"

"Who?"

He pulls back and looks you in the eyes. "Me, of course. Because I'm awesome."

"You sure are. But you're a little less awesome when you provoke people and leave me to clean up your mess."

"Don't worry about it, baby. I can clean up after myself."

"I don't trust you to tend to your wounds. I feel like you'd end up pouring bleach on your face."

"Well, it is a cleaning product. It's meant for cleaning."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Just come to the bathroom."

He follows after you, talking so much that he barely stops to take a breath between words.

"Is that a new picture on the wall? Don't think I've seen that one before," he says thoughtfully as the two of you enter your bathroom.

"I know there's no way you actually give a fuck about us having a new decoration on the wall."

He smiles. "Nah, you're right. I don't care. I'm just a little nervous, is all."

"About what?"

You pour some alcohol onto a cotton pad and he winces as you bring it to his face. "That." He gestures towards the cotton.

"Maybe if you didn't get into all these fucking fights, I wouldn't have to torture you with rubbing alcohol."

"You say that like this isn't your favorite part," he mutters under his breath. He tries to keep a straight face as you apply the alcohol to his scrapes, but he cracks almost immediately.

"Owww," he groans, leaning away from you. It always goes like this; you having to pretty much restrain him to get him to stop squirming. For someone who gets in a lot of fights, his pain tolerance is practically non-existent.

"Quit whining," you mumble.

"It hurts. I have the right to whine."

You roll your eyes. "You don't have the right to whine."

"First Amendment says so. Freedom of speech and freedom to protest. Sounds like the right to whine if you ask me," he says with a cocky grin.

"Yeah, and the Second Amendment gives me the right to bear arms, so watch your fuckin' back," you snarkily mumble in response.

"Oh, shit, really? I thought the Second Amendment was... Like, the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness or some shit."

You look at him in shock. "Jesus Christ. I'm this close to kicking you out of my house."

"Wait! Actually, hear me out." He holds his hands out, grinning. "Okay. So, you know how if I'm a British soldier and I want to come crash at your place, you have to let me in?"

You raise an eyebrow.

"Well, my grandma is from England and I just kicked Billy's ass, so I'm basically a British soldier which means you have to let me–"

"The Third Amendment reversed that."

His shoulders slump. "Oh."

"Now, will you shut up and sit still so I can get this blood off of you?"

He straightens his back and holds his right hand up to his forehead in a salute. "I won't let you down, lieutenant! ...Sorry, I'm still in ‘British soldier’ mindset," he giggles.

You finally finish getting the majority of the blood off, the rest of it being concentrated in the deeper cuts on his face which you can't clean without him thrashing around like you're strangling him to death; and you almost consider the idea with how uncooperative he's being.

Despite his resilience, you eventually finish your work, bandaging the necessary places.

"You know, I just got Scott Pilgrim on Blu-ray. I know you've been wanting to watch it," Clapton says as you lead him out of the bathroom.

"Hell yeah," you grin, taking him upstairs. "I still haven't taken the time to watch it."

"It's pretty awesome. I've seen it, like, five times."

You get settled as he gets the movie set up before he excitedly joins you on your bed.

"He punched the highlights. Out. Of. Her. Hair," he mutters as the same sentence is said on-screen.

"I'm starting to think you have this whole movie memorized," you tease.

He picks his head up, smiling. "It's a good movie!"

"Never said it wasn't."

He re-focuses his attention onto the movie. You haven't been paying full attention to the plot, but Michael Cera is now fighting some vegan guy? This is a weird fucking movie.

"That's actually exactly what happened during my fight with Billy earlier," he jokes.

"So, who's who?"

He points at the screen. "I'm Scott, obviously, because I won."

"Ugh. Spoilers."

"Obviously Scott fucking wins, he's the main character."

You laugh. "Alright, so if you're Scott, and Billy is Todd, who am I?"

He thinks for a moment. "You're Wallace."

"Why the hell am I Wallace?"

"Because I'm Scott, and Wallace and Scott sleep together," he snickers.

"Ugh, not everything has to be a sex joke," you say, playfully nudging him.

He rolls his eyes. "It wasn't a sex joke. They literally sleep together! ...Oh, don't give me that look. It was funny."

"You know, now that I think about it, I'm not sure I'm cool with you being Scott. He is dating a seventeen year old."

"So am I."

"Yeah, but you're 18, not 22."

He shrugs. "The only reason I said I was Scott in the first place is because I wanted to be the winner in this one fight scene. Doesn't mean I'll grow up to be an adult who likes high-schoolers."

"Touché."

He suddenly pulls you closer to him, a small smile on his face. "Hey."

"Hmm?"

He rubs his thumb along your cheek. "I love you."

You grin. "You sure?"

"I don't think there's anyone else in the world who would put up with my shit the way you do. Of course I love you. I'd be an idiot not to."

You squeeze him tight, like he'll fall through your fingertips like sand if you don't hold on to him as tightly as possible.

"I love you too."

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hutchersonsgurl · 9 days

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while we were getting high

“how many special people change? how many lives are living strange? where were you while we were getting high?” — ‘champagne supernova’ by oasis.

pairing: clapton davis x gn!reader

word count: 1.1k words

summary: where clapton and you get high almost every weekend except this time some words are exchanged.

tags: fluff, smoking, underage smoking, marijuana use (not mentioned though), honestly the smoking part isn’t really in detail but they’re high, best friends to lovers, oasis being praised and blur hate (i do not condone!), use of y/n, feelings being confessed sort of?

author’s note: i should be working on requests but i really had to urge to write for clapton since there is barely any content for him. why am i writing a fic about smoking when i have asthma. there’s brief discussion/debate about which of two bands are better (the bands being oasis and blur) but is that worth tw? like i feel like some people (by what ive seen) can take that stuff really seriously but i really don’t mean any hate towards oasis nor especially blur, i simply think that clapton would definitely be the type of guy to get into a debate over bands, or which band is better in this case, but don’t take anything seriously!

Your focus is not on Clapton’s rambling, instead you’re drawn to the familiar glow in the dark stars that stick to his ceiling within the many band posters he stuck up there. You’ve counted these stars several times before as this wasn’t your first time getting high in his bedroom.

You groan when you hear the same song start again from Clapton’s Ipod. He was the type of person that would obsess over a song and play it nonstop until he grew tired of it. His latest victim: ‘Champagne Supernova’ by Oasis. You don’t know how he hasn’t grown tired of listening to it on repeat, I mean, you have already! “Do we really have to listen to it again?” You whine, shifting around uncomfortably in his twin sized bed. The two of you were pressed up against each other, it was incredibly uncomfortable and yet you both always ended up in his bed for some reason.

A dumb smile curls up on his lips that you manage to catch briefly before returning your gaze back at his stupid ceiling. You don’t know why your heart quickens but you blame it on the amount of weed you smoked. I mean, it was probably that. “Yes, come on, Y/N, this is music! Real music.”

“‘Real music’?” You question, only to piss him off. A part of you liked seeing him angry, honestly. And you knew just how to push his buttons.

“Yeah. Unless you can name a better band.” Clapton challenges with an arrogant voice.

You could name so many other bands that have had a better discography than Oasis but you choose to name the band that you knew would rile him up. With a grin on your lips now you answer with what he would consider the worst band to name in this scenario.

“Blur.”

The words strike Clapton. Maybe he was being dramatic but honestly he found your choice offensive. He props himself on his elbows, no longer laying down completely. His face is scrunched up with slight disgust and confusion, an expression that resembles a child who’s just had a taste of a lime. “Blur?” He says with disgust in the word.

“Yeah,” you reply with a calm attitude. “They’re pretty good.” You continue to look up at the ceiling but Christ would you love to see the look on his face. “Better than Oasis.” You add for good measure.

You don’t know what reaction you expected from him, or well you did. You figured he would go on a long rant you wouldn’t be able to escape about how Oasis was in fact better than Blur. You did not, however, expect him to get on top of you, it’s so swift and sudden that you don’t even know how to respond. He pins your hands on either side of your head, your eyes now meeting his dark, mischievous eyes. Was he…grinning?!

Now you’re confused.

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” he teases, his body pressed up against yours. This is…not good. It feels good, sure, but Clapton was on top of you. Clapton, your best friend who you’ve known since grade seven. “We both know you’re just saying that to get a reaction from me.”

His hands grip onto your wrist, holding you in place. It doesn’t hurt, or maybe you just liked how he held you down. “Am I?” You play along, acting dumb.

His grin only deepens, his eyes frantically flickering from your eyes to your lips, your own eyes glued to his pretty pink lips. Fuck this wasn’t good. “You are,” his voice is deep now, a tease in his tone.

Before you know it, he’s inching closer to you. His fucking grin mocking you. “Clapton, we—“ shouldn’t, you think about saying but fuck, fuck, fuck his lips were grazing the skin of your neck now, his warm breath tickling you a bit. And that stupid song was still playing!

His thumb softly traces circles around one of your wrist. A part of you wishes your hands weren’t restrained down so you could tangle one in his hair. “We what?” He asks, his breath hitting your delicate skin.

“We—“ you can’t even finish. He doesn’t let you, his lips gently pressing a soft kiss against your neck, one that makes you tense up. Such an innocent kiss and yet that locked you. He continues to pepper gentle kisses on your neck, it’s so pure and sweet, especially when you feel his smile in each kiss.

“I’ve wanted this for so long now,” he admits before continuing to kiss your neck, his thumb continuing to trace around your wrists.

“You have?” You ask. A part of you thinks about telling him that you’ve secretly wanted this too for a bit now.

He stops to look at you now, his cocky grin replaced by a gentle smile. He nods with such a soft expression on his face. “Mm-hmm. I thought about what it would be like to kiss you every day, even while we were getting high.”

A crimson colour tints your cheeks. Clapton smiles more at that. God, you look so lovely now: flustered and underneath him, his hands wrapped around your wrists, your eyes boring into his. He would gladly count every eyelash, memorise every colour that paints your eyes.

“You’re high.” You giggle trying to play it off, though you don’t try to move away. Not that you could due to how he was holding you down.

“Yeah, you are too,” he says with a soft chuckle. His eyes don’t leave yours, he desperately wants to hold your gaze for as long as he can, honestly. “But even when I’m not high I still adore you.”

Fuck.

Your eyes widen a little, your mouth slightly hanging open due to his words. Clapton grins at that and before you can say anything else, he leans down to kiss you. Your lips move with his, not resisting his lips. You honestly don’t think you’d be capable of resisting him after all of this.

One of his hands laces with yours, the other still pinning you against the mattress. He continues to kiss you and he really doesn’t want to stop. He’s desperately craved this for so long now. He smiles in the kiss then, realising he has the privilege of kissing you.

His smile felt so great against your lips.

After some time you both pull away, a huge dumb smile on Clapton’s face that makes you smile at how adorable he looks. He plops down, laying his head against your chest, wanting to be near you for longer. You don’t even have to kiss, you really don’t have to do anything but be close to him. That’s really all he wants. All he’s ever wanted from you.

taglist: @cancelledkaley @stanheights-boyfriend @ploty-twist @jhutch-bf @laurrrelise @joshfutturman @gryffindorsblog @sofiehutch @obsessivemuso-withnofriends @helen-on-earth @fallingboba @cassiecasluciluce @maticka @jhutchissupercool ♡︎

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hutchersonsgurl · 9 days

Text

No thoughts, only Derek Danforth sending you nudes while you're at work...

(Thanks, Holden. 🙄) @freak-accident419

Tags: 18+ g!n reader, mentions of drugs, no real smut, just dirty talk and nudes

---------------------------------------------------------

Your phone buzzes in your pocket for the twentieth time in the past five minutes, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is.

Who it always is.

With a sigh, you try and discreetly look at your phone underneath your desk. Opening messages from Derek while you're at work is always a gamble, considering he spends 90% of his time high, horny, or a mix of both.

As soon as you tap the notification, your screen is overtaken by cock. The tip red and glistening with need, his hand wrapped around the shaft, mid-pump...

Fuck.

You quickly turn your phone off, shoving it between your thighs and sitting up straighter. That bastard. He knows you're at work.

Of course, now he also knows you've opened his messages. Your phone vibrates angrily between your thighs, and you start to wonder if putting it there was a smart move.

Fucking Danforth. You try to physically shake the image of his throbbing cock out of your mind, literally shaking your head as you stare at the computer screen in front of you.

That is, until your co-worker in the cubicle across from yours shoots you a glance and asks if you're alright.

"Yeah, just, uh... Tired. Trying to stay awake."

You stand up straight, causing your still-buzzing phone to fall to the floor.

"I'm gonna go make a coffee," you announce.

In your scramble to pick up your phone, you knock your chair over and onto the floor. Damnit, stop making such a scene.

You scurry away, trying desperately to silence your phone. Unfortunately, the last thing you had pulled up was... well, cock.

With a yelp, you turn and duck into the nearest bathroom, praying no one saw your screen.

Once you finally have some level of privacy, standing in a cramped bathroom stall, you start to look over your 50+ notifications from Derek.

He's been sending you messages all afternoon, mostly nonsense texts, with nudes interspersed between them.

11am:

Babe? Baaaaabe. Babe I miss you Come home When is work over

12pm:

Are you ignoring me? Babe I got a new robe Do you wanna see Baby

[A short video of Derek in his robe]

He starts the video making a concerned face at the camera, muttering to himself. Once he realizes it's recording, he sets it down on the bathroom counter and takes a few steps back, showing off his robe.

It's green silk with gold trim, and a gold tie around the waist. He takes a hit of his vape and does a quick 360, twirling for the camera.

"You like it?" He asks, beaming and carding a hand through his blonde curls.

He stares at the camera for a minute, seemingly waiting for a response, before snapping out of it and reaching to turn it off.

"Sorry. Just smoked a few." he mumbles, and the video ends.

1pm:

Babeeeee I need youuu Come home already Come sit on my lap

[A picture of Derek's lap]

He's still wearing the robe, and his hand is wrapped around his hard cock through the thin silk fabric. No skin is showing, but you can clearly see the familiar outline of his dick.

2pm:

Fuck If you don't come home soon I'm dying asjkdakdjha skdjhfskjdh aksjdkadjs Baby Can I send you Pics Baby asdasjdghask It misses you

[A shakily-recorded video of Derek from the waist down.]

He tugs at the golden strip of silk tied around his waist, slowly unravelling the loose knot.

Eventually it completely falls away, and his rope opens, exposing himself completely for the camera. His dick is standing at attention, twitching and leaking pre-cum down his shaft.

The video pans to his face again, and he absentmindedly gnaws at the end of his vape. Sweat drips down his forehead and he mumbles out a plea you're unable to hear with your volume off. The video ends.

2:30pm:

Baby Oh my God I can't wait Come home Looking at your old pics again Miss you so muchh Fuck work I need you

[A short close-up video of Derek's cock]

He's in bed, his animal-print bedsheets peeking through his legs as he lies back and strokes his cock. Slowly, he bucks his hips up into his hand, clearly trying not to finish just yet. You recognize this as the video from earlier, the one you opened at your desk.

2:45pm:

YOU OPENED IT BABE ARE YOU IGNORING ME BABY I'm so hard right now Please Fuck Fuck Fuck I need you to sit on me Please asajshdas hdsjdhfahd asdasjdk sljkdfls Answer Please Babyyyy

You blink at your screen, finally reaching the bottom of Derek's endless sea of messages. Fuck. You really should be angry with him, but he's so goddamn hot when he's needy.

Not that he needs to know that.

Is this what you do all day while I'm at work? Get high and play dress-up?

FUCK Babe Don't go or I'll die Please

I still have two hours of work left, Derek.

You wouldn't need to work if you'd just move in with me already <3

Your house scares me. No one should be exposed to that much animal print.

I'll buy us a new one. Just come home, pleaseee?

This bastard. He isn't going to give up, is he? You glance at the time, and bite your lip. Maybe you could make up the two hours later? Work overtime this weekend?

Babe?

I'm here. Brat.

Are you on your way over?

Yeah. I'll be home in ten.

Suddenly you feel very, very sick. Too sick to work. You explain this to your boss, who shoos you off and tells you to go home.

One thought plays over and over in your mind as you pack your things and scurry to the car...

Derek better still be wearing that slutty little robe when you see him.

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hutchersonsgurl · 10 days

Note

Wait imagine listening to music with clapton while in detention.. like sharing earbuds with him while yall sit in silence🫢 and then a cringe song comes on at the wrong time LMAO

BLESS YOU anon this is so cute

Saturday School

Clapton Davis x gender-neutral reader

Word count: 2k

Tags: fluff, a little cringe, romantic tension, older Clapton & younger reader

------------------------------------------------

You'd managed to get through nearly 12 years of schooling without getting sentenced to detention.

Unfortunately, today resets your streak. Only a measly two weeks at this shitty school and you've already gotten yourself into trouble. Just your luck, huh?

God damnit. Surely, this is going to be absolute hell. I mean, it isn't even a regular after-school detention, but Saturday school.

As you take a seat in the meticulously-arranged circle of desks in the library, you spare a glance at the other students. You vaguely recognize some of them... the goth chick looks familiar, at least.

They all seem disinterested, so you copy their aloof attitudes and lean back in your chair. Yeah... that seems right. Just do what everyone else does, and maybe you'll survive this.

Suddenly, the door bursts open and slams against the wall. You turn to look, and see the principal himself storm through, dragging a boy in by the ear.

Oh great. Finally, someone you recognize, and it's motherfucking Clapton Davis.

"It's not fair! I don't even HAVE Saturday school!" He whines, wincing as he's roughly shoved towards an empty desk. The desk right next to you. Wonderful.

"Should have thought about that before coming to school on a Saturday." The older man growls, giving him what he probably thinks is an intimidating look. Honestly, he just looks silly.

Clapton groans, slinking back in the desk and letting out an exaggerated huff that blows his bangs around.

God, can't that guy just be normal? You only just transferred here and already you know almost everything about him. Not by choice... obviously. He's just somehow the center of attention wherever he goes. Even in goddamn Saturday school.

"And as for the rest of you..." The principal continues his rant, glaring at the small circle of students. No, prisoners.

"Just remember. I have eyes and ears everywhere. EVERYWHERE."

With one final less-than-intimidating-glare, the man stomps out, closing the door behind him. Is that it? He's just going to leave you here in a roomful of delinquents with nothing but a vague threat to keep you all in check?

You glance around at the other students, but no one says anything. Hm. Maybe that's normal. You have no idea, so you just lay your head down on your desk, determined to get through this mess as simply as possible.

Turns out, that sentiment might prove to be more challenging than you thought. You hear a quiet "thud", and shift slightly, peeking an eye to your left to see what the noise was. Are you crazy, or does Clapton look... closer?

Nope. Not crazy. With another soft thud, he scoots his desk over again, inching it closer to yours.

"Pssst." He whispers, extending a leg out to nudge your foot. He's less than a yard from you at this point. Though you can't see the other students with your head buried in your arms, you're sure they've noticed. Damnit. Why did this jackass have to draw attention to you?

"What do you want?" You grumble, shifting on the desk so he can see your face, but still trying to stay hidden from the other students.

"I haven't seen you around before. You new?" He gives you a sheepish grin, eyes flickering with mischief as he takes you in.

"Yeah." You respond dismissively, giving him a flat stare. Please just pick on someone else, Clapton Davis.

"Cool, cool..." He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling.

You watch as he restlessly taps his feet and tries to balance on two legs of his chair. He's so high-strung. Like a chihuahua. Small like one too. Hah. The thought makes you smile, which he unfortunately notices and takes as a sign of interest. Damnit.

"So... what are you in for?" He asks, treating the exchange like you're two inmates. Honestly, it's a fair comparison.

"I, uh... Accidentally lit my teacher on fire."

With a crash, Clapton tips back in his chair completely, hitting the floor. Hard.

"You WHAT?"

The sudden noise makes you jolt upright, and you can feel a blush creeping up your neck as the other students turn to stare.

"Accidentally!" You protest weakly, hanging your head in shame as Clapton scrambles to his feet.

"How the fuck do you 'accidentally' set someone on fire?" A dark-haired boy across from you scoffs, and a few other people voice similar questions.

"Okay so... Mr Jones's sleeve caught fire while giving me a demonstration with the bunsen burner..." You start, taking a deep breath and staring down at your desk to calm your nerves.

"I panicked and doused it with a vial of the closest liquid... apparently an extremely flammable liquid..."

"Is THAT why he went home early Friday?" A blonde girl asks, letting out a shrill laugh, like that of a hyena.

"Woah. Sick." The goth-looking girl just nods in approval before lying her head back down on the desk.

Before you can give any kind of response, you feel your desk jostle as Clapton's slams into it. Apparently he'd taken the initiative to get a little closer while everyone was distracted by your story.

"So, Grizzly Lake High has a new pyromaniac, huh?" He teases, propping his elbow up on the desk and resting his chin on his fist as he grins stupidly at you.

"New?" You scoff. "You mean you had an old one?"

"Hey, there's a lot of weirdoes here." He shrugs.

"Yeah... I can tell."

He pouts and tries to feign offence as you pointedly look him up and down. God, what a stupid fucking face.

"You're not in any of my classes, are you, newbie?"

"No. I'm a Junior."

"Ah. Well, maybe we'll have some together next year."

"Next year? Aren't you a Senior?"

"Yeah, but with the way my grades are looking..." He grimaces, shaking his head sadly.

"...you might be a Senior again next year?" You finish for him.

"Yeah."

"Bummer."

An awkward silence settles between the two of you, and Clapton starts to squirm, looking as if he wants to say something else.

"How'd you end up here? In Saturday school, I mean." You ask, if only to cut the tension. Not because you actually care.

"Oh." His face falls, clearly annoyed just thinking about it.

"Principal Verge confiscated my skateboard Friday... I was supposed to get it back at the end of the day, but I ended up getting detention... By the time I was done, he'd already left and locked It up in his office."

"Sooo... you came to steal it back?"

"Not steal! There's sometimes a few teachers here on weekends... I was just gonna ask one of them..." He mumbles, hanging his head.

"But stupid Verge caught me 'sneaking around' and threw me in Saturday school."

"Oh, so he just has it out for you, huh?" You tease.

"Exactly!" He hisses back, eyes wide with excitement.

"People just don't understand. I'm not a troublemaker... just unlucky."

Unlucky? He seems pretty damn lucky to you. Everyone likes Clapton Davis. Everyone but you, it seems.

"Pfft. Maybe you could try being quiet and sitting still for once." You muse, trying to hold back a smirk. He might be onto something though, honestly. He's a total trouble magnet... which is why you should probably just put your head back down and ignore him.

"Hey!" He pouts, feigning hurt as he reaches into his pocket.

"And to think, I was gonna offer to share..."

This piques your interest, and you lean closer to him, trying to get a glimpse of the object he's fiddling with under his desk. An iPhone. Great.

"Won't that just get you in more trouble?"

He rolls his eyes in return. "Look around. I'm not the only one."

Sure enough, when you look more closely at some of the other students... yep, at least half of them are on their phones. The way they slump over the desks sort-of hides it, but once you knew what to look for... damn. He's right.

"Why? What's even the point of Saturday school, then?" You're completely baffled by this revelation, shaking your head.

"What's the point of school at all?" He counters, shrugging and popping an earbud into his ear. His wired headphones are extremely tangled, but he offers you the other earbud anyways.

"So, wanna share?"

Damnit. You really shouldn't. But you hadn't brought your own phone, and fuck, that grin of his...

"Fine. What do you have on there?" You sigh and accept the earbud, scooting closer to him so it'll actually reach your ear. There's not much slack with how tangled they are, so the two of you are nearly cheek to cheek as you hunch in your seats and peer down at his phone.

"Here, I'll turn on my playlist."

He fiddles with the little phone, and you can feel his breath mixing with yours as he speaks. Eventually he gets some music playing, but you can hardly hear it over the beating of your own heart.

"What do you think? You like 90s stuff?" Clapton smiles warmly, turning to face you.

His smile is contagious, and you can't help but let your gaze flicker down to his lips... just for a moment. He's so close, his mouth just inches from your own.

"Uh, yeah. I-I mean, who doesn't?" You mumble lamely, feeling a familiar heat creep up your neck and tinge your cheeks. Fuck. He's not that cute, get yourself together!!

"I know, right?" Apparently that's the right answer, because he turns his attention back to the phone, scrolling through his playlist and pointing out his favorite songs.

His music taste isn't bad, actually. You find yourself nodding at his choices, and soon you begin to forget where you are. The other students fade into the background, and Saturday school starts to feel a little less grim.

That is, until the song changes and the vibe is completely thrown off. What the hell is this? Your brow furrows and you try to make out the nonsense lyrics.

Cat? I'm a kitty cat. And I dance dance dance And I dance dance dance Cat? I'm a kitty cat. And I dance dance dance And I dance dance dance

The lyrics repeat over and over, and Clapton nearly drops his phone in his scramble to change the song. In his rush, he gets his password wrong over and over, making it impossible to fix.

"Clapton, why the hell is this on your playlist?" You ask, putting a hand to your mouth in a failing attempt to stifle a giggle.

"I-it's catchy, alright??" He mumbles, still trying to change the song. He gets his password wrong for, like, the tenth time, and it locks him out of his phone for thirty seconds, leaving you both stuck with the nonsensical cat lyrics ringing in your ears.

You try to keep your composure, but when the man singing the song starts meowing, you completely lose it and throw yourself onto your desk in a fit of laughter.

Unfortunately for Clapton, you accidentally tug the headphone cord with you, unplugging it from his phone. As you bury your head in your arms and laugh uncontrollably, the silly cat song starts blasting out loud for the whole room to hear.

And he can't even do anything about it, because he's still locked out of his phone for the next 20 seconds.

"S-sorry!" He shouts, trying to cram his phone into his backpack to shut it up.

You can feel all eyes on the two of you, but this whole situation is so utterly ridiculous, you don't even mind the attention. A few other kids snicker, and you can't help but feel a little bad for him.

Your remorse fades as soon as the principal throws the door open, immediately turning his attention to you and Clapton.

"Both of you!" He roars, pointing an accusing finger. "Detention on Monday! And Tuesday!"

Damnit. You knew this boy was trouble, and yet...? As the cat song finally stops, you meet Clapton's gaze, a sheepish smile plastered across his face.

Maybe spending a little more time with him wouldn't be so bad.

------------------------------------------------

Author's Note: Sorry if it wasn't fluffy enough...? I mean, the reader kind of hates him at first, and they don't even kiss... But the request was really funny, and I love putting Jhutch characters in awkward situations <3

Maybe I'll write a sequel? Probably not, though. Sorry it took so long to write, also. I wrote half of it and then let it sit in my drafts for weeks before writing the other half.

Hope y'all enjoyed, feel free to send in more requests!! I'll get to them eventually, even if it takes weeks. <3

110 notes · View notes

hutchersonsgurl · 11 days

Note

clapton davis fic where hes just like, super flirty and its really cute and the reader is oblivious to this but eventually clapton is like "damn it why cant you get the hint" so he opens up to the reader?&;&:& tysmm

━━ SUBTLE UNSUBTILITY

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: clapton davis x reader warnings: swearing, brief depictions of blood word count: 2500+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

The presence of Spring in Grizzly Lake brought a lot of things; including sporadic bursts of heaven-yellow sunlight, greenery spiraled across branches of previously barren tree skeletons, and, most importantly for students of Grizzly Lake High School, the promise of the Spring Fling Formal that was set to occur in the midst of May.

For Clapton, this prom meant one thing; achieving his goal that’s been looming over him since freshman year — ask you out. Theoretically it’s a simple process, but if it was truly as easy as it sounds it would have occurred the very moment his eyes landed on your figure that first day in beginner spanish.

You were the embodiment of perfection, punctuated through your gleaming smile that enraptured anyone in a ten mile radius, and the way the sun seemed to spread across the expanse of your cheeks, soaking you in the rays of heaven itself. Clapton was about ready to propose that day, and he didn’t even know your name.

Now, roughly two years later, he was still amidst the same dilemma, the one in which he actually had to do the asking-out part. He was sure by now you would have picked up on his inherently obvious attempts to entice you, but you remained oblivious, so he decided he’d have to fully commit if he wanted to capture your attention. The art of unsubtle subtility, if you will.

And so, forty three minutes into the depths of an agonizingly dull pre-calculus lesson, he confidently taps your shoulder with a fractionally tense hand, and indulges the tug on his heartstrings when you turn around, framed by the delicate glow of mid-morning spring that he adores so much.

“Something wrong, Clapton?” Your voice cleaves through the classroom ambience of idle chatter and textbook pages being flipped. He flashes a boyish smile in hopes to flutter your heart in the same way you flutter his.

“Do you get any of these questions?”

“Yeah, they’re not too bad,” you reply, offering an ephemeral that renders his throat tight.

He glanced down momentarily at his worksheet, adorned in scrawls and scribbles, yet lacking a single legible answer. His vision trains up back to you though, as it always does. He thought you’d easily detect the unspoken question for your help, but you remained stationary in your seat, as if waiting for him to say it. He couldn’t tell if you were genuinely that heedless, or if you were toying with him. Cat and mouse.

“Seriously? When did they even teach us all this?”

You shrug mindlessly, and a lock of hair shifts from its position on your shoulder. He’d give anything to rope his fingers through it. “A while back. Why, you need some help?”

Yes. He’d like your help, your compassion, your hand in marriage…

“Wanna walk me through it?” He tosses you a hopeful expression, and you answer back with a simple nod, sliding your chair along the cheap linoleum floor with a scrape, until the pair of you are sharing his desk, impossibly close.

Your velvet voice is stringing sentences right down the expanse of his spine, though your attempts to help him understand logarithmic differentiation were ultimately futile— how was he supposed to concentrate on anything when he could feel your words blooming on his skin? See every freckle and divot etched into your face? He could taste his own heartbeat as it melded against his throat.

“So, this helps to avoid complications like the product rule and the quotient rule when— Clapton?”

He cocks his head up, trying to ignore the swell in his stomach when he hears the way his name sounds braided between your sentences, it suits your voice so well.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Are you even listening?”

Shit, no he absolutely wasn’t. How could he? Your proximity allowed him to see you. Like, properly see you.

“Yeah. Totally. Logaramic thingyation,” he murmurs with overt certainty, and a puppylike grin.

You snicker. “Couldn’t even get the name right?”

He’s internally collapsing, though he manages to force some words out of his struggling brain.

“Hard to think when you’re here.” He doesn’t dare sever the eye contact between you, hoping to hone the tension as long as possible, until he shatters you. His lopsided grin shrinks in a moment of brevity; you’re so close and he can smell you and your very essence. He’s sure that his ulterior motive is conveyed, through the way his eyes explore the breadth of your figure, never leaving, never faltering— yet to his pure irritation, all he gets is a blank expression and a confused chuckle.

“Why is that?” You ask, and he wants to grab you by your shoulders and shake you. Are you really that dense? Your face is about as expressive as a rock, and you seem not even partially affected by the flirty wink he sent your way moments prior.

“You’re kidding, right? Come on.” He fires back, raising a brow with a daring smirk. He wants you to inquire. You don’t. He realizes that trying to get you to take a fucking hint was about as impossible as teaching him calculus.

You force out an awkward laugh that makes his skin crawl with defeat, but he doesn’t back down. “Come on what?”

He refrains from the urge to say “me”, and instead huffs a sharp exhale through his nose. He’s moments away from spouting some lame compliment when the shrill cry of the bell interrupts his train of thought, and a tide of students eject eagerly from their seats and spill out into the corridor for lunch.

Your friend approaches the desk with a quirked brow, reaching for your arm and mumbling something into your ear that’s intelligible to Clapton, tugging on you to try and steer you away from the classroom. And from him. You nod in response to her comment, before momentarily glancing back over to Clapton.

“I gotta go, Clapton. See you soon though, see you in History!” You send him a parting wave with a gentle flick of your wrist, before turning off and disappearing down the long stretch of corridor beside the classroom. His eyes follow you for as long as possible before your figure is consumed by the wandering horde of students, and he lets a grumbly sigh escape his parted lips before he packs up his belongings. This was going to be harder than he anticipated.

*:･.・゜゜・

Clapton’s second attempt at alluring you resulted in more or less the same outcome. He’d entered the cafeteria, instantly bathed in the overwhelming odor of lysol and lard. His prior plan was to grab a doctor pepper, maybe a sandwich, and head over to his typical table to talk a painfully uninterested Sander’s ear off about you, but he scrapped it upon spotting you waiting in the cafeteria line, immediately changing course and veering over in hopes of a successful conversation.

He cuts in front of an unsuspecting freshman, ignores the irritated “What’s your deal man?”, and ‘accidentally’ brushes up to you until your bodies knock, and you spin around in confusion.

Your face mildly relaxes in recognition, and he takes this as progress.

“Hey. Getting lunch?”

“What else would I be doing?” You ask. Swing and a miss.

He clears his throat a fraction, not allowing this to throw him off his game.

“I dunno, maybe you just really like standing in lines,” he teases, and you laugh back.

“Especially if the line is for overpriced cafeteria food,” you add with a grin.

The pair of you share a laugh, and Clapton marvels at the fact that you can look so irresistible even in the harsh fluorescence of the cafeteria’s artificial lighting. The pair of you fall into a partially awkward silence, and he follows your line of vision, watching as you observe some students hanging a hand painted banner advertising prom for the entirety of the cafeteria to see. ‘Spring Fling Formal, get your tickets now!’ glistens in white gold lettering. He prays he can take the banner up on that offer.

“Are you doing anything for it?” A bit of a jump from the casual conversation, but he was itching to entice you and couldn’t risk missing his chance.

“Hm? For what?” His lips twitch into a gradually familiar downwards smile. “Prom,” he says, gesturing at the banner, obnoxiously pink in hue and decorated with scatterings of hastily painted daisies.

“Oh. Maybe— I’m not sure, it’s kinda ages away.” Yup. An impossibly distant period of two weeks. Clapton’s jaw ticks uncomfortably at the prospect of the narrowing window of time. He can’t afford to screw this up.

“Right. Sure. Are you… interested in anyone in particular though?” He probes, hoping that you notice the searing spark of desperation that lingers in the loop of his irises.

“Eh. Not really. Are you?”

His ego suffers a blow at your total ignorance to his pining. He’s on the brink of combustion; unable to endure the cosmic irony of having you so close yet so far. He pictures you for the umpteenth time, glittering in a dress that matched your eyes and his tie. A slow dance to a Sting song, his eager hands situated either side of your waist. You’d stare up at him with a dazzled guise, illuminated by the scintillation of indigo disco lights, and his tongue would delve into yours as he soaked up the saccharine flavor of the fruit punch lingering on your lips.

“Yeah.” He states bluntly, staring at you as if you hung each and every star. “Yeah, I’m interested in someone.”

You raise a brow. “Oh yeah? Who?”

He clears his throat. “Someone special. Someone super special.”

“You should ask them!” “Easier said than done,” he chuckles humorlessly.

Your lips part as you go to investigate further, but are interrupted by the scowl of the lunch lady barking at you for your order. He notes it, mac and cheese plus a diet sprite— you’re handed it moments later, and your vision is torn from him and towards your small circle of friends seated across the cafeteria, who are waving you down. You’re gonna leave again?

“I better go sit down, but, uh, you should definitely ask that person to prom. Be upfront and everything. Y’know, you only live once, and all that, right?”

He swears he’s going to implode at the unbridled irony of this entire situation. Be upfront. He’s been upfront!

“You know it,” he quips weakly as you slink away.

He’s been showering you in signals for months, and you’d always abandon them, his attempts for your acknowledgement left festering as sour memories in his head, things that made him roll over with shame in bed at night, and all for what?

He brainlessly orders his doctor pepper with a monotone grumble, feeling the frigid prick of the can’s condensation gather in his palm as he wonders what the hell it’s gonna take for you to take a damn hint.

*:･.・゜゜・

After yet another failed interaction, Clapton had spent the span of the rest of the week stripping his words to the marrow. Every conversation he indulged in with you involved his inner thoughts spouted in their rawest form— cocky compliments, lingering touches, looks of intense pining and yet somehow you continued to miss them. Every. Last. One.

He was nearing his wits end, teetering on the cliff of insanity and seconds away from taking the plunge. Maybe he was the one who needed to take a hint. Maybe you were trying to tell him that you weren’t interested and he wasn’t giving it up. It was a sickening notion, one that thrashes wildly in his stomach. He didn’t know much, but he did know that he’d never be satisfied until he knew your stance on him for certain.

He was just gonna say it.

In hindsight, it wasn’t Clapton’s smartest move to deliver the question in the midst of a dodgeball game, but his thoughts were warped and he decided now was as good as ever. His voice was barely even audible beside you over the screech of tennis sneakers scraping the gym floor and the continuous sound of rubber balls coming into contact with student flesh.

“Hey!” He exclaims.

“Hey?” You say back, turning to him momentarily. Yet again, he wonders how you do it. Hair blown back effortlessly, skin glistening with a fragile sheen of moisture that is hardly off-putting, if doing something it aids to soften your otherworldly glow. Meanwhile, he was panting like an old dog, hair matted to his forehead in sodden chunks beneath his obnoxious sweatband.

“I needa ask you something!” It’s sink or swim. His teeth graze the inside of his cheek for a moment, his gaze varying between you and the opposing court, to prevent a dodgeball to the head.

“Yeah?” Sink or swim sink or swim sink or swim. “What’s up?” He melts at the sight of your semi-breathless smile.

“Are you still dateless? Like, to prom?”

Your forehead creases, and you return the sideways glance. “Um, yeah. Why?”

With a delayed exhale that rings heavy in the pits of his lungs, he turns his entire body to face you, which in turn makes you face him as well.

“Look, I’ve been trying to say this for months. Well, not months. Maybe weeks. Whatever– point is, it’s been a while. Like seriously, a long fucking time. And I swear I’ve been so obvious, but clearly not obvious enough because you’re still, like, totally unaware or whatever. But, like, basically, I was wondering— I’ve been wondering if—” “Clapton!” You exclaim hurriedly, splintering his stammered sentence in an instant. He barely has time to cast his visage front on, before a dodgeball with an extremely strayed trajectory soars gracefully through the current of the air and hits Clapton square in the face. Guess he wasn’t paying enough attention after all.

An expletive leaves his lips, muffled by the wail of your gym teacher’s whistle. His head is temporarily a warped whirlwind resembling TV static, though the feeling fades fairly quickly.

You turn to him in a mild panic, noting the faint trickle of glossy crimson that has started to spill from his nose. “Holy shit! You’re bleeding! Lemme take you to the nurse.”

He can’t help but twist his lips up to form a slight smirk as you place a worried hand on his bicep. The touch scars on his nerves, your fingers like an angel’s caress.

In all honesty, he feels fine, but you offered to take him to the nurse— was he going to give up that delightful invitation? No. He was not.

The pair of you are excused from the gym, trekking down the hallway in an atmosphere of silence so thick it’s practically tangible. Upon arrival at the nurse, Clapton’s seated in a shitty plastic chair, holding a paper towel held to his nose and tipping his head slightly backward. He couldn’t believe that his one chance of actually spitting his desperate question out was interrupted by a stray dodgeball. A goddamn stray dodgeball.

You linger in the doorframe, taut as a coiled spring. The nurse, underpaid and painfully unsympathetic, leaves the pair of you once she deems Clapton to be ‘good enough’, in her exact words.

You approach him, taking the scarlet-spotted tissue and holding it to his face for him, a gesture which turns his insides in on themselves.

“Hey Clapton? What were you saying before?”

Shit.

“What?” He croaks gutturally, trying and failing to play dumb. He knew damn well what he was saying. Prom with him.

“You were asking me something. Before you got, y’know, obliterated by a flying dodgeball.”

He snickers feebly, even if for a moment. “Oh, yeah.”

You open your eyes wider as if to say, “Well?”

The climate in the room seems to sink heavier, cradling the scent of antiseptic and drying blood. Clapton’s words fizzle out on his tongue no matter which way he arranges them in his head, but he knows he just has to get it out—- rip off the band-aid, break the ice, all of that.

His eyes, big and wide and drinking in your face so dangerously close to his, melt into an unmistakable question. He counts himself down in his head. Now or never.

“Prom. I was asking if you wanna go to prom.” He takes a staggered breath. “With me, I mean.”

Oh.

The genuine beam you erupt in subsequent to his words is enough to ease his nerves. It’s enough to make him soar, actually.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” That wasn’t a no. That wasn’t a no. His heart hurts with hope.

“I tried to. You’re just… you kinda suck at taking hints.” He chuckles.

You roll your eyes, picturing every moment leading up to this one that you spent with him. Upon further reflection—- yeah. Yeah, you clearly did. People don’t look at friends the way he looked at you.

“Shit, I kinda definitely do,” you murmur.

He doesn’t let the quiet last long.

“So…?”

“Oh. Right, yeah. Clapton, I’d love to go to prom with you.”

The smile he wears is irresistibly contagious. Finally. Finally. Two long years of craving you; two years of memorizing every quirk and curve and contour. He knows it’s sort of ridiculous to get so elated about some forgettable high school dance, but the image he can see so vividly in his head; the lights and the dress and the swarm of butterflies that comes with your killer smile… it’s worth every awkward exchange, every word that’s fallen on deaf ears.

“Seriously?” He asks, reaching for your hand and wallowing in the way you so brainlessly accept the touch.

“Seriously.”

“Good. You won’t regret it.”

And something inside you tells you that he’s absolutely right.

reminder, my requests are always open

✩‧₊˚

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hutchersonsgurl · 29 days

Note

More Clapton Davis fics?? 👀 your last one was so good😭😭💟

I’m Busy, Doll

Warnings: dom clapton, light degradation

Pairing: Dom Clapton x Female Reader

You desperately rocked your bare core against Clapton’s thigh, needing more help than you were getting from just this alone. "Clapton please, I'll be good" you whined, looking up at him desperately.

He pays you no mind, carrying on with what hes writing, little fucker, muttering a dismissive "I'm busy doll." You whimper in response, rutting yourself on his clothed thigh, repeatedly brushing your clit against it.

The friction was delicious and it did make the coil in your stomach tighten, but it just wasnt enough. All you wanted was his big fingers thrusting into you. You let your eyelids flutter shut, and you brought a hand up to your breast, playing with your nipple and whimpering softly.

You think about how his fingers usually feel inside you, stretching you out deliciously as they curl upwards inside your spongy walls, making you writhe beneath him.

This brings you closer than you were, rutting yourself mercilessly against his thigh and whining and whimpering loudly, begging him to touch you. "Clapton please, just a little bit of help please"

Your eyes widen in surprise when he shoves his free hand in your mouth, but then you suck on his fingers as if they were his cock, listening to his low voice. "Be quiet, i told you i was busy and you couldn't wait an hour, its my thigh or nothing doll"

The sound of his voice and his fingers in your mouth are nearly enough to drive you over the edge. You suck his fingers harder, sinking your teeth into them as you finally manage to cum all over his thigh.

He winces a little when you bite down on his fingers "fuck, little slut"

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hutchersonsgurl · 1 month

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currently writing a clapton davis fic :d!! i've barely seen any fics of him recently 😓

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hutchersonsgurl · 1 month

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౨ৎ⋆˚౨ “be a good boy” ৎ⋆｡౨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 request by anon

ᡣ𐭩 sub!clapton x dom!reader

ᡣ𐭩 mentions // “good boy” , “mommy”, fem reader, female parts

ᡣ𐭩 tags // clapton davis x reader, soft!dom , edging, use of “mommy” as referred to reader, pet names , begging , unprotected p in v (wrap it) , oral sex, reader giving , dick sucking , cum drinking , blurb!

clapton has always teased you. whether it was your hair, your clothes or just you in general. and god it was pissing you off. you knew it had to root from some sick crush he has on you but it went so much deeper than that.

that is until you got to be alone with him. it’s like as soon as he came over to your house for some project, he was putty in your hands

“god….just please fuck me” he whimpers as your lips wrap about his tip, using your tongue as you swipe it just on his slit, causing precum to drip out of him.

“you know, you’ve been really bad these last few months, do you think you deserve to be punished? it’s only fair, don’t you think?” you remove your mouth from him and kiss his shaft, leaving lip gloss marks on the parts of him you can’t take in your mouth.

“y- yes mommy. i’ve been bad, please- please punish me. i’ll be a good boy for you….ill be your good boy” he whimpers, his hand almost desperate to push your head down to engulf his aching cock before he stops himself.

“now tell me, do you think you deserve to cum baby? tell me. do you think you deserve it?” you say, no remorse behind your eyes. you love seeing him like this, sweaty and down bad for you.

he shakes his head slowly as a look of defeat washes over him. he knows he doesn’t deserve to be inside you but god, how he wants it so badly. he’ll do almost anything for the taste of your cum.

“but i’ll spare you. i’ll fuck you, but you’ll have to be quiet if you want to cum, can you do that for me? be quiet for me?” you say as you press a kiss on his tip.

“y- yes…mommy.. uh - i…i can do that” he whimpers. but god knows he can’t keep quiet to save his life, always little whimpers and noises coming out of him. you remove your panties, the wetness pooling out of you. you push him back on the bed as you sit comfortably on his throbbing cock, making him whimper at the sensation of being inside your soft wet pussy

his eyes fall to the site of your thighs wrapped around him, his face turning red as he starts bouncing you on top of him, expertly hitting your gspot each time. “i- am- am i being good for you-?” he whimpers as his hands grip your hips, his eyes rolling back in his head as his jaw goes slack.

you look at him, grasping his chin with your hand, making him look at you. “look at me while i use you, let me ruin you. gonna make you such a little slut for me” you say. “gonna be my little whore right?” you say, still gripping his chin with your thumb and index finger, waiting for a response.

“m-mhm, yeah. gonna be your slut- oh fuck mommy-“ he says, his dick twitching inside of you, signaling he’s about to cum.

but god, he’s been so bad these last few weeks you can’t let him off that easily. you remove yourself from off top of him, watching your own release pool out of him, directly on his dick.

he immediately whimpers “no no no, please mommy- come back please…i need to cum- please mommy i’ve been so good” his voice is high and needy, his eyes are worried and panicked.

god, you can’t say no to him. you wrap your plus lips over the head of his dick, bobbing on his dick. your eyes dart up at him- his jaw is slack and his eyes are rolled deep in his head,

“fuck- yes…please mommy, god please.” he whimpers as a loud grunt escapes him. “be quiet if you want to cum” you say, mouth still full of his cock.

he quiets at your request, only letting small soft moans escape his lips. you take his full shaft. after a few moments you feel his hands grip your hair, and his dick twitching in your mouth.

“f- fuck i….m’gonna cum-“ he moans as he thrusts into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. thank god you don’t have a gag reflex.

soon enough thick white warmness shots down your throat, drinking up every bit of his cum. he removes himself from your mouth, you truly drank every last drop of him. short and quiet “thank you”s leave him as he pants.

you wish he would talk back more often.

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hutchersonsgurl · 1 month

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𐙚₊˚⊹♡”fuck you”⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

ᯓ★ tags : gn!soft!dom!reader x sub!clapton davis. requested by anon.

ᯓ★ enemies to lovers (been wanting to write one of these for so long. tysm anon for bringing me back, i am so unmotivated rn)

ᯓ★ mentions : soft-dom reader x sub clapton davis, edging, degrading kink, vulgar language, unprotected sex, cream pies, both reader and clapton are of age. keep it 18+ guys, porn with plot, mostly just jersey horny rambling

everything is doing well in your last period AP biology class, except one thing. your lab partner is clapton davis. the one person in this school you don’t get along with. he annoys you and teases you whenever he can, honestly you don’t even know how he got into honors classes, you weren’t even sure he was going to college, but that’s none of your business right now.

“hey loser” clapton sits beside you and smacks his gum in his mouth. you hate when he does that, or anything really. “do you have any idea what we’re doing? i’ve been confused this entire time” he says genuinely. for the first time in his life he actually wants to ask for help.

“uh yeah, we’re just supposed to research stem cell differentiations. it’s easy don’t worry we can get this done in like 20 minutes” you say confidently. you actually have no idea how to go about this project but honestly it doesn’t matter.

“oh, okay. are we gonna do the project at my house or yours?” he asks, almost nervous to ask.

“mine is fine” you say as his face turns a light shade of pink from the invitation. he quickly hides his face, and especially the blush creeping up on his cheeks.

“you know, you’re pretty cute when you’re quiet” you tease. obviously trying to get under his skin.

“s-shut up. just shut up” he sutters, the pink still on his cheeks. this makes you giggle, seeing how he just melts when you take charge, when over something as simple as directing a project.

after the bell rings, you get out of your chair and pack your things up, clapton frantically says “hey, wait up-”

you take your earbud out and reply with a simple “hm?”

“am i riding with you- or-?” he asks, almost unsure about the situation.

“yeah, you can ride with me. just- wipe your shoes before you get in my car” you say as you lead him out to the parking lot to your forest green dodge charger srt. he’s almost in awe of your car. he now knows why you asked that of him.

as you two ride to his house, you notice something. is he fucking hard right now? you think as your eyes gaze at his bulge in his pants. you let out a small chuckle on accident.

“what?” clapton asks, repositioning himself to where his package isn’t on full display. he now knows you know, and god is he embarrassed. his cheeks are bright red as his leg bounces up and down

“you- you got something in your pants clapton” you laugh. obviously teasing him at this point.

“just- just drive, okay?” he says, face pink as a beam of sweat falls from his forehead. god he’s cute when he’s nervous.

as you both arrive at your house, he goes inside with his bookbag on. you lead him to your room, a minimalist decorated with colorful art on the walls. your room looks like a museum, well it a museum had a tv and a cd player- but nonetheless, your room was nice and clapton liked it. he especially liked the vanilla scent in your house.

“so- let’s address it, why did you get all hot and bothered in my car?” you mention, and it’s obvious now. he’s blushing like crazy, just like a little sub. it’s really adorable actually, but you just want to see how far you can take this.

he doesn’t respond, but his bulge is back. and you just have to take care of this, before any work can get done. “you want some help?” you offer as you smile teasingly. he just nods his head up and down acceptingly, he needed this, especially after you teasing him almost made him cum in his pants.

you unbuckle his jeans and he whimpers at the touch of you. god he was such a little bottom for you, just putty in your hands. as you get his pants off, you notice the precum leaking through his boxers and you immediately get turned on by the sight. you imagine the taste of his cum and how his dick would feel twitching inside of you.

you take his throbbing dick out of his boxers, he’s average but girthy. the tip is bright pink, soaked in precum. as you hold his cock on your hands you rub your thumb over his slit. he twitches instantly. “fuck, please- please fuck me” he whimpers. you smile at the sound of his groans for you. “you gonna be a good boy? gonna listen to me and do what i say?” you ask.

“fuck…yes i’ll be a good boy….just for you.” he says as he bucks his hips into your hands. you smile at his response, just what you wanted to hear. you sit on his cock and bouncing up and down, overstimulating him as his jaw goes slack as he moans softly “fuck…fuck yes…god you feel s’good” his eyes roll back in his head as his dick twitches inside you

“fuck, fuck- i’m- gon- gonna cum” he stammers. “cum inside, you’ve been a good boy.” you reply.

he shoots hot thick lines of cum inside you, filling you up. he’s so far inside you that there’s not even a chance of him for you to leak out. he basically bred you, but god it felt so good.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀

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hutchersonsgurl · 1 month

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Rick Grimes x f!Reader - Shadows of affection 18+

AN: bro my smut is so rusty and stiff, like idk sksks but i loved the idea behind this ALSO important question for y’all do you think rick somehow keeps the prosthesis on during sexy times? i was wondering how that works… if anyone knows enlighten me

Warnings: bad writing, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, cum shot

!Minors do not interact!

The world had changed so many years ago, things were differently nowadays, the CRM was a place of a new beginning, of a new and better society.

It gave the lost souls in this world a place to be, to live a more meaningful life again and to build a new and better world.

The military of the CRM was only for the elite, for the best which the CRM had and Rick Grimes was one of the soldiers in it - he was under the command of your father, Major General Beale.

You were one of the many soldiers under your father’s command too, with the aspiration of becoming a medic.

If it had not been for your dad, you wouldn’t have survived the outbreak or gotten this far, but now you were here in the CRM becoming a medic in the military. For years you had been watching Rick, admiring him from afar and exchanging longing glances with him.

The two of you had never been more than friends, although you wanted more from him. While you were in your late teens during the outbreak you never lost your virginity before and didn’t want to waste it on some guy you had only known for a short while and risk getting pregnant.

But Rick was different, you wanted him, he was the first man in your life which you could ever see yourself having sex with. And one evening things got serious.

You joined your father in the training hall, it had gotten late and as usual you checked up on him and his cadets and inferiors in case someone got injured or wanted to talk to a medic.

“How did training go?” you asked your dad, and he gave you a soft smile “It went all well, sweetheart.” you nodded and locked eyes with Rick, exchanging a longing and wanton glance.

When your father dismissed his soldiers, and you made your way out with him, along with the other soldiers Rick walked closely past you and placed a piece of paper in your hand. He looked over his shoulder as he walked away from you and your dad, and you put the piece of paper in your pocket.

In a quiet moment you looked at the piece of paper and it said:

Meet me after 9:30 in my apartment, military apartment complex 3 apartment 98.

- Rick

It had been past 9:30 as Rick was drinking some whisky, sitting on his sofa in the dim light of his apartment. The quiet moment was interrupted by you, as you walked to the door of his apartment and knocked on it three times.

He opened the door and a soft smile appeared on his face, you walked in and gave Rick a soft smile.

“You wanted me here?” you asked and closed the door behind you and took a seat on Rick’s sofa, he was standing before you with crossed arms.

“Yeah, I was thinking about what you told me the other day.” Rick said and you recalled the conversation from a few days ago.

“I want to feel more in control, feel something good for once.” you said.

“I think I might know, what we can do about that.” Rick said and stepped closer to you, he cupped your chin with his hand and made you look at him.

You swallowed and looked deep into Rick’s blue orbs “I can make you feel so good.” he said in a raspy tone and leaned even closer, kissing you with lust.

“Ah… Rick…” you whined, and Rick pulled away with a moan “I’ve never done this before.” you whispered, and Rick let go of your chin.

“Fuck, I didn’t know that. I… would’ve done this differently if I had known.” he admitted, but you smiled and raised from the sofa, walking closer to Rick.

You gently wrapped your arms around his waist and looked up at him “I don’t mind, just wanted to let you know.” you said and kissed him.

His stubble was scratching against the soft skin of your face as you kissed him, and his lips were soft, slightly chapped, and so warm against yours. Your hands found his locks in the back of his neck, you tugged at them slowly as he deepened the kiss.

Rick’s true side was slowly showing, and he pushed you a bit roughly on his bed, he stood before you as he stepped between your legs and hovered over you. The weight of him was comfortably pushing against you and you let out a quiet moan.

Quickly Rick pushed up your shirt and placed his hand on your abdomen, you whimpered at his touch and squirmed, pushing your body against the touch of his hand.

“Gotta get that off sweetheart.” he murmured and leaned back to remove his own shirt, revealing his scarred and toned torso. Fuck he looked so good.

You leaned closer to him and touched his torso, your hands were travelling over his toned chest, god it felt so good to touch his toned muscles and your hand moved over his abdomen to his belt.

Rick watched your hands open his belt and he groaned as you unzipped his pants and pushed them down a little, exposing his growing bulge.

Quickly you discarded the rest of your clothes and let Rick climb on top of you in only his boxers, in which a huge bulge had formed. You were wondering how he would even fit inside you; he was huge.

Rick was on top of you, his weight pushing down on you as he kissed down your body, he had your neck covered in kisses and was slowly making his way down your breasts. Your soft breasts… He cupped one of your breasts, fondling the soft flesh in his hand and kissing the other.

He had ignited a fire as your clit was pulsing heavily between your legs as you could feel the familiar tingle between your legs. You had spent many nights lying in bed imagining him, his touch and being fucked by him.

“Ah Rick…” you moaned and dug your nails deep into the muscles of his shoulders.

“I need you…” you whimpered, and Rick looked deep into your eyes “What? Now? You don’t want me to get you ready?” he asked in a raspy tone, and you shook your head.

“I just want you to fuck me, but I have no idea what to do.” you admitted, and Rick hummed, he slowly climbed off the bed and took off his boxers, revealing his, hard and girthy cock to you – how would he fit inside you?

Rick climbed back on top of you, his cock dangling between his legs as he pushed them apart and reached between your legs with his hand and slowly circled your wet and swollen clit, you moaned with your mouth hanging open.

You frowned as Rick pulled away and reached for one of his pillows to place it under your ass, Rick adjusted himself and kneeled between your open legs. He had angled you perfectly, he could enter you so easily and you could relax and admire him.

“I don’t have a condom… fuck.” he groaned, causing you to sigh “Just pull out, my period has been irregular, I think we’ll be fine.” you spoke, and Rick nodded in agreement.

Slowly he reached for his swollen cock, the head of it already leaking as Rick pressed himself against your entrance, you were so wet and ready to have him inside of you and took him in.

A quiet gasp escaped you and your eyes rolled back “Oh fuck!” you cursed and nearly tore Rick’s bedsheets apart. “You okay?” Rick asked, halfway inside of you.

You nodded and relaxed around him, enjoying the feeling of having him fully inside of you as he pushed himself into you. Rick moaned and hovered over you, holding you closely to him.

“Christ, you’re so fucking wet, baby.” Rick cursed and slowly withdrew his hips before he pushed himself back inside you again causing you to just stare at him in shock at how good he felt.

As you got more comfortable around him, you crossed your legs behind him and one of your hands found his ass while the other found his strong shoulder. He was fucking hard into you, and he knew exactly that you would cum, he could feel it by how your walls were twitching around him.

“Rick… I – I’m gonna.” you whimpered “I know, I know… relax, easy…” Rick assured you and with a few more hard thrusts of Rick you came around him, the knot in your abdomen untangling as you squeezed around him hard.

“Rick!” you cried out quietly as your whole body shook and you struggled to breathe as Rick fucked you slowly through it.

He pressed his forehead against yours as your body went limb and shaky “First orgasm?” he huffed and you nodded “With a man, yes. But you gave me many in my imagination before.” you breathed against his lips.

“Hmm… You gotta tell me about those.” he groaned and pushed harder into you, fucking you like he desired.

His thrusts became fast and almost angry as he used your body for his pleasure in the moment, his hand holding you tightly in a way which would soon leave bruises and Rick slowly let himself fall on top of you. With a groan he wrapped his hand around your neck and looked deep into your eyes.

Rick’s mouth was hanging open and with a deep groan he quickly pulled himself out of you like he promised, even though he would’ve loved to cum inside you and came all over your stomach with deep groans as he stroked himself through his release.

You watched Rick roll to his side as you laid next to him, shaking, and slowly realising what happened.

“You good?” he asked, and you nodded, you got up to clean yourself up and walked back to him after, sitting on the side of his bed.

“What is it?” Rick asked with a slight tone of concern lingering in his voice “Nothing, I just think this was a mistake.” you gulped as you reached for your bra and shirt.

With a disappointed tone Rick asked “Why?” , “I think, this wasn’t just sex for me Rick.” you explained and he huffed.

“Not sure how this is gonna be a problem.” Rick said and covered himself with his blanket. But slowly he started to realise why this could be a problem and he pulled you back on the bed.

“We can keep this a secret, your dad won’t know shit.” he said and cupped your face in his hand.

“Come on, stay the night at least, baby.” Rick smiled and stroke over your cheek with his thumb.

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hutchersonsgurl · 1 month

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Rick Grimes x f!Reader - Echoes of Loss 18+

AN: Okay this basically is all smut, but i LOVED this so so much

Warnings: degradation, rough sex, unprotected sex, cum descriptions, depressed and sad vibes, not proofread

!minors do not interact!

Rick was known as a kind and good man many years ago, he was a kind and caring husband and a loving father being willing to do almost anything for him and his wife.

But the world changed, and Rick changed too, he wasn’t the sweet, kind, and caring husband anymore.

He became a widower, a man who was grieving for everything he has lost and for everything that could have been.

His once kind heart became as hard as stone, filled with grief and anger which took over him.

But behind all of that, behind those tired, sad, and angry eyes you could still see the man he once was.

Over the years you had known Rick he and you became more than friends, you became his anchor in the CRM, and he was yours, you were there for each other when you needed each other. It maybe wasn’t the love you craved from a man, and neither could you give him the love which his wife had given him, but you could still give him the softness he and you needed.

The way your skin, your hips, breasts, and ass felt against his calloused hand; so soft and warm brought him back, took him away from the roughness and hardness which had taken over him.

You had gotten used to it, to the way he would pick you up, how his hand would greedily touch you, and his mouth would plant hickeys all over your soft skin.

He wasn’t a sweet lover, Rick loved with everything he could offer, with passion, grief and sometimes anger. It was a way for Rick to let go of his emotions, to let things be as they were, and you were here to help him with that.

So here you were, on all fours, on Rick’s bed in his apartment with him kneeling behind you, his hips pounding against your ass with a more than fast pace, he was going fast, brutal and all he could think about was the sadness, the grief and the anger and the so comforting feeling of your skin against his.

It was the only thing keeping him sane as Rick reached for your throat with his hand, while his stump was resting on your side, balancing your body. You were so cock drunk, so drunk from the whisky you were having earlier, but you could not care less as you felt his fat cock inside you.

His cock, it was perfect, huge and girthy, every vein was perfect, could hit those places in which you needed him and his hand. His hand, it was so soft, so warm yet so calloused and so rough against your skin.

You moaned, it almost sounded like you were screaming as Rick was giving you a wet, sloppy, rough, and messy pounding, he was so lost as in his emotions when he wrapped his hand around your throat, and you reached for his hand.

“Rick…” you said a few times and Rick finally slowed his thrusts and loosened the grip on your throat, he had no idea how long he had been fucking you. But you knew that you had cum several times, too many times if that was even possible, all you knew was that you were sore and that some of Rick’s cum was dripping out of your hole along with your own.

Rick was breathing heavily behind you, groaning against your ear as he started to fuck you in a slower, sensual pace.

“What is it? You, okay?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah, just be a little gentler, okay?” you asked, and Rick nodded with a smile.

“Sorry sweetheart.” Rick groaned and slowly let his hand go from your neck to your back and made you lay more comfortably in his bed.

Your face was buried in his pillows, you took a deep breath, inhaling his scent and moaned when you felt Rick’s hand take a hold of your hip and began to move with more caution and more awareness.

His moans slowly took over yours, you were spent, tired and just laid there, let him have you. You enjoyed it when Rick took over you, when you could give yourself to him and with his sensual thrusts you came another time.

The tight knot in your abdomen finally untying for the last time tonight as you came with a cry in his pillow.

A smile appeared on Rick’s face as he felt your walls spasm and clench around his cock.

This was the feeling he was looking for, the feeling only you could give him in these years he was here in the CRM.

His lips were agape, the noise of messy sex filled the air and Rick could feel himself becoming more sensitive, getting closer to climax.

Rick looked at the ceiling, his body moving in the rhythm he desired, in the rhythm which felt good and with a grunt he could feel all the anticipation fade away and a new feeling of satisfaction came over him as his cock twitched inside you, filling you with his cum.

The sensation of Rick cumming inside you always caused your eyes to widen, for you to gasp with him and to enjoy every second of feeling his twitching cock inside you.

Rick was breathing heavily behind you, beats of sweat running down his forehead as he calmed down, as he caught his breath and with a wet noise Rick pulled out of you. You could feel his and you cum drip out of you as you collapsed next to him.

He chuckled at the sight and shook his head.

“We really make a mess every time.” Rick said and all you could do was nod.

Even Rick’s legs were sore and shaky after such a rough session, but he was here to clean you up, a small glimpse of the man he used to be.

“It’s the damn whisky Rick, always gets me going, you know that and yet, you still invite me to come over for a drink.” you said with a laugh and Rick reached for the back of your head to make you look at him.

“It’s because I love making a fucking mess out of you.” Rick spoke with a raspy voice and smiled.

“Because no woman here can take my cock like you can.” he added and you smiled with a huff, knowing that Rick only enjoyed you for fucking. You knew you could never be more than this.

@catt-leya

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hutchersonsgurl · 1 month

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The Unlikely Postulate of Clapton’s Love Life

Clapton Davis x GN!Reader Headcanons

Content: a little bit of fluff, mentions of virginity, mentions of underage drug use, that’s pretty much it :)

(A/n: Just like in the movie, I made a chapter title card as if you and Clapton’s relationship were inserted. I was really in love with the names such as ‘The Terrible Ultimatum of Clapton Davis’, ‘The Lonely Ballad of Billy Nolan,’ etc. so I came up with one as if these headcanons were scenes in the movie.)

You knew Clapton since Freshman year. You knew of him, at least, and you didn’t actually have a conversation with him until junior year. It all started when he asked you for a pen.

You weren’t too popular like him. But you were sort of the sweetheart of the school. Nobody would talk about you as much as they did Clapton, but when you were brought up, only good things were said about you.

A few small things had progressed your friendship with Clapton. First, it was the pen thing. Then you two were teamed up for a science project. This showed him how smart you were, so he began to rely on you. You were also charming and he began to become infatuated with you, so he asked you for homework help a lot of the time. You went on ‘dates’ and things, like how he skated you home, went on a movie date with you, went bowling together, until you two were official partners.

You two were both in Spanish classes. You were passing and he was failing, so you had to tutor him a whole lot. He came up to you one day with a giddy smile and said ‘Tu es mucho bonito.’ It wasn’t completely correct, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

He burned a CD for you consisting of all of your favorite songs.

Sometimes he appeared in your front yard at midnight for a late night skate. Other times he appeared, he went to your window and you two just made out.

You made out a lot. And you probably lost your virginity to him.

You two got high sometimes. One time you had a very long, weed-driven conversation about who the ‘real’ karate kid was: Ralph Macchio or Billy Zabka. He said it was obviously Macchio, but you liked to argue for Billy. In retrospect, you weren’t sure why.

You two are basically each other’s best friends. It took a while for the school to realize you were dating.

As attractive and charming as Clapton was, nobody really expected him to be in a relationship. He seemed like one of those cool chill guys who wouldn’t involve himself in one. That’s why everyone was so surprised to know that he was in a relationship, let alone with you—it was highly unlikely. Everyone in the school thought you were the power couple, though. Everyone talked and gossiped about your new relationship with him a lot.

You both didn’t like the idea of extravagant prom-posals. Plus, it was sort of a mutual understanding, you two knew you wanted to go together.

He loves holding your hand. Whether he’s walking you to your class or home, he cannot go without holding your hand.

He tried to teach you how to skateboard once because you asked him. You fell. It was terrible. But he patched you up and blamed himself for not teaching you or protecting you properly.

He loves sharing his music with you. Sharing earbuds and everything. When he found out that your go-to slow dance song was “Fields of Gold” by Sting, he instantly knew you were his soulmate.

Sometimes when you two cuddle, you talk about your future together. You hope to stay together long enough to get married. Then you think about articulate things like where to live, what kind of house, pets, etc.

He always said ‘Clapton don’t dance’ but that was a lie. He’d never hesitate to slow dance with you.

You made each other friendship bracelets. He never wants to take it off.

Riley was very supportive of your relationship. As Clapton’s best friend, she was glad that he found someone as amazing as you.

He loves whenever you play with his hair. You do it a lot.

Sometimes you’d ditch school to hang out at a 7-11 or smoke pot. It didn’t matter what you did, as long as he hung out with you. He enjoyed quality time.

One time, before you two were dating, you two ditched school because Clapton wanted to show you a trick he learned on the skateboard to impress you. Clearly he wasn’t ready because he fell, suffering a terrible injury. But there was something so dorkishly charming about that moment, that that was probably the first time you realized you liked him more than a friend.

The first time he said ‘I love you’ was by mistake. You two were both very high. He genuinely meant it, however. And so, the very next day, he properly confessed. And you expressed your reciprocation.

This was my first set of headcanons I’ve written, so I hope you enjoyed it! I hope I did this prompt justice :’) I was so proud of the title that I was too eager to wait until I got a solid fic idea, so I just decided to write headcanons :) thanks for reading!

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hutchersonsgurl · 1 month

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Coming soon

#clapton x reader #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #clapton davis #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x you #josh futturman #five nights at freddy's #clapton davis x reader

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hutchersonsgurl · 1 month

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⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖”come home”⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

☆ tags // mike schmidt x reader, loser!mike x dom!gn!reader,

☆ mentions // mike is a needy loser who begs for your attention, dick sucking, edging, cum drinking, reader doms mike, angst, fluff, smut, needy and desperate mike, reader has like wrapped around their finger., missionary, unprotected p in v (wrap it) minors dni 18+

☆ a/n // i still love writing for mike schmidt this is heaven ty lou

your work has been consuming you, working long hours, barely coming home on time, sleeping all until your next shift and just being busy. your boyfriend, mike, hates it. he hates that you’re never home, he hates that he never sees you, and he hates that you two haven’t had sex in weeks.

he’s been a brat about it ever since you took more hours, and he never took the time to realize that you’re only working so hard to provide for things he’d want, i mean, you are the house breadwinner. ever since his pizzeria secrurity job ended you’ve had to work since he couldn’t get hired anywhere.

as you’re working you get texts after texts from mike. “are you gonna be home on time?” “i miss you.” “i need you it’s been so long” he spams you.

god, he’s so needy. you roll your eyes at the text. if he doesn’t chill the hell out for atleast 3 more hours you’re going to loose your mind, does he not know that it’s hard for you too?

as the hours go by you think of ways to surprise him. maybe some lingerie? maybe a new toy for you two to experiment with? maybe some flavored lube? the possibilities are endless. you count down to the second you get off your shift, simply texting mike “wait up on me, i have a surprise.” as you clock out and go to your car.

you arrive at the nearest mall and get a cute lingerie set from the Spencer’s located within. a black lacy bra with a golden heart charm between the breasts, the bottom piece is a black and lacy with “baby” on the butt written in rhinestones. you knew he would love it but you didn’t expect him to like it as much as he did.

as you’re getting back in your car to drive home, you get a sudden rush of excitement. wondering how he’ll react at the site of you. you even put on red lipstick to top it all off. as you arrive at home, you change into your new set in your car, it fit perfectly around your shape. you swiftly but your work clothes back on. you still need this to be a surprise.

you enter the house and throw your keys on the kitchen table. you walk into your room and mike is waiting patiently for you, god his bulge is showing just by the thought of you coming home.

before he could say anything you strip as soon as you get through your door, watching his eyes gaze at your body in your new set. giving him a spin around so he could see your rhinestone covered ass.

mikes eyes widen at the site of you, a wet spot already forming at the tip of the tent in his sweatpants. “oh my god” he says softly as he stares at your figure.

you stand in your set in front of him, your fingers dancing across your chest, driving him crazy. you get on your knees in front of him and bring his sweatpants down, followed by his boxers. pulling them down just below his balls. his dick springs out of his pants, hot and red at the tip with precum pooling out.

you leave one kiss on his tip as your lips take in his precum. leaving the red lipstick kiss mark on his dick. he immediately groans at the sensation, feeling better than he has in weeks just by the expectation of you giving him head.

but you’re not giving in that easily. you kiss and lick around his shaft, but never long enough for him to get a release from it, your lipstick leaving red stains all around his hard on.

“please suck, i’ve been thinking about it all night please” he pleads with almost tears in his eyes from the overstimulation. it’s so cute seeing him like this but who are you to say no to his request?

as per his request you start, you wrap your red lips around his tip and his hand pushes your head down, it’s almost insulting but god, it’s so needy of him and that drove you crazy. you fully emerge yourself around him and he lets out a sore whimper.

you gag on his dick as you’re sucking, he throws his head back and keeps his hand on the back of your head, gripping on your hair. his dick twitches in your mouth signaling he’s close to cumming. “m’gonna cum” he moans, only the whites of his eyes showing. as his words hit your ears you stop, red lipstick covering the shaft of him.

he looks devastated at your action. “please let me cum, i’ve been waiting so long.” he begs. it’s almost cute how desperate he is for you. you want to keep going for him but you stop yourself. “now is it really fair if you get to get off and i don’t? is that fair? i’ve been waiting just as long as you have.” you say

you push him back on the bed, his dick springing up, tip still red and sensitive. you wrap your hands around him, feeling the warmth of him.

you basically rip your panties off of yourself, positioning yourself on top of him, sliding his dick inside you, grinding on him as you look him in the eyes. “you look so pretty when i’m overstimulating your dick. so, so pretty.” you say as you place a hand on his cheek

he moans your name as he places his hands on your hips, so tightly that you’re certain it’ll leave bruises. you want that, the pain would be a reminder of this amazing night.

your hair flips around your neck, your face flushed with a pink tint and sweat beaming off your forehead. his dick assaults your walls as his tip brushes your gspot causing you to let out a soft moan of his name. his fingers make their way to your clit, moving soft circles along it, making you pant soft sounds.

mike almost cums on contact with your body, but he knows he has to stop himself. he has to make this good for you. he has to make this last as long as he can. “fuck, i’m gonna cum mike.” you whimper. he speeds up, hitting your gspot with each thrust he leads you to bounce on.

“m’so close” you whimper, his fingers bring themselves to your chest, god he loved it so much. especially in that new bra. his teeth graze your nipples, biting them so softly but it feels so much more intense this way. so intimate, yet so dirty.

“can i cum now? please” he moans. how could you say no? “cum in me, please cum in me” you say, and he does. leaving thick white pools in you, the warmth making you shake as you finish, as you remove yourself from on him, you pour out a mix of both of your releases. he brings a finger to your wetness and brings it up to his mouth, sucking on them. he loves the taste of you.

please come home earlier next time.

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hutchersonsgurl · 1 month

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'hunted'

oneshot - derek has a vivid dream in which he's being hunted. (for a writing group im a part of, basically he has a memory in the form of a dream from the timeline of the movie!) (1k words) character - derek danforth (the beekeeper) tags: angst, nightmares, cussing, brief drug mention

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

derek wasn’t normally the type to get too many nightmares. he would never really remember his dreams at all. when he went to bed at night in whichever bedroom in his house he desired, beside whomever he desired, he was knocked out like a light. that’s just what happens when you have all the money you could ever dream of and stink of privilege, that was derek danforths life. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

it wasn’t like he never experienced stress. in reality derek was more stressed than he would ever let on. running his business wasn’t easy despite what people would say. a nepo baby who never had to want for anything. legitimacy and morals aside, derek worked his ass off. danforth enterprises was what it was today because of him. not anyone else. not his mother. and certainly not his father.

so it was no surprise that his nightmare that night rattled him.

from the get go, he felt a swirling sense of paranoia invade its way around his skull like a ghost as he slips into the nightmare. it seeps through every crack, every crevice it can worm its way into. that same fear spread down his limbs and across his back, making his shoulders grow tense.

this didn’t feel like work stress, it felt worse. it felt more intense. it felt more threatening. more than just mindless work shit was on his mind. why couldn’t he place it?

derek felt cornered, sitting in his mothers office. his eyes dart between the windows and the doors. it felt as though the walls were closing in, threatening to crush him. he shrinks back into the chair, his hand coming up to pick at the side of his face - a habit his mother loathed and never kept quiet about.

but mom wasn’t here. no one was. it was just derek, alone.

his phone buzzes and he jumps in his seat, frightening him more than it should. shakily, his hand reaches out to pick it up, holding it so tightly that he might snap it in half if he’s not careful.

there’s breathing on the other end, and that causes his back to straighten. “who the fuck is that?” he spits out, feeling his breathing pick up pace.

the other line stays eerily quiet and this freaks him out more. fuck. were they already nearby? his eyes dart towards the windows again, expecting to see a figure only to be greeted with. . . absolutely nothing. an impending sense of doom spurs in his mind, unsure of where to go to alleviate it. he felt trapped, cornered. and derek didn’t like that. he didn’t enjoy feeling like a prey animal, when all his life he always presented as predator.

“i said who the fuck is that?!” he calls out again, gripping the arm of the chair.

still nothing on the other end. until.

“i’m coming.” is all the voice says.

derek holds back a gasp, the voice confirming his fears.

he swallows hard and prays his voice not to shake, “fuck off. you can fucking try, bitch.” derek growls, but it’s clear to anyone who knows him just how much he’s rattled. before the other person can reply, he presses the disconnect button and throws his phone across the room.

breath escaping him, he pants, raking his fingers through his hair.

no one would let anything happen to him, right? there was no way. he was too important. there were so many people he could pay to protect his life. he could hear his fathers words ringing in his ears, ‘i told you so.’. derek lets out a whine and covers his ears.

no, no, no. this wasn’t happening. this absolutely fucking wasn’t happening right now.

every creek within the old walls had him jumping, completely on edge. his heart races away from him. he’s seconds away from calling for his mom, hands aching to grip onto something real, something that could ground him. he feels pathetic for wanting his mother, but something deep inside him tells him that not even she could make him feel better.

and he’s glad no one else can see him like this. he’d never act this way in front of anyone. derek wasn’t known for his calm and collected manner, but he tried to never show weakness in the form of fear. he kept it bottled up, hidden away until he could get his hands on something that made him feel at ease, usually in the form of that sweet white powder he loved so much.

so now, completely alone, he comes undone. he can feel tears form in his eyes as he grits his teeth. derek wasn’t ready to die. he had his whole life to live. who’d provide for his mom when he was gone? no one else could do the job like him. they’d just fuck it up. she’d lose her position and it’d be all their fault.

derek didn’t want to die. he couldn’t. silently he begs for more time.

until he’s ripped from his sleep with a gasp. derek grips the sheets as he sits up, gasping for breath over and over. for a few seconds, it feels like he’s still in that office. but after a few blinks, his surroundings come back to him. he’s home.

but it doesn’t feel the same. it doesn’t feel safe. he doesn’t feel so untouchable now. he almost feels. . . vulnerable.

he grabs at the bedsheets beside him and realises that no ones there. he suddenly regrets sleeping alone. he releases shaky breaths from his nose and reluctantly lays back down. gathering the duvet against him, he wraps himself tightly within it and lays with his back against the headboard, eyes scanning the room.

his bedroom suddenly felt too big. his eyes move between each object as if looking for any form of a threat. did the curtain just move? fuck. he was losing it.

the digital clock on his nightstand blinks: 3:21am. it was a long way to go till morning. and derek couldn’t bring himself to move.

instead, he sat like this until the sun crept into his bedroom, bringing a small sense of safety. but that feeling of unease stayed in his mind, pricking him whenever he got too comfortable. no time to relax, always on high alert.

he realises he isn't as untouchable as he once thought. and that thought. . . fucking terrifies him.

derek wasn’t ready to die.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

‧₊˚ dedicated tags: @helen-on-earth @fatinhadesiners06 @boonam @sun-spider13 @laurrrelise @sammygirlism @sleepyhutcherson‧₊˚ ily all sm!! thank you!

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

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